


Natural

by mackenziebutterschnapps (hannibalsbattlebot)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, mild bdsm reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsbattlebot/pseuds/mackenziebutterschnapps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he knew what a little facial hair did to Will, Hannibal would have grown a beard a long time ago </p><p>or </p><p>Will becomes an enthusiastic bear hunter and the best quarry is sitting right across the breakfast table from him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural

What was that look? The look Hannibal caught—again—on Will's face. He could get the general shape of it: longing, a touch of reluctance and maybe fear, but the exact thoughts that brought this look to his face were just beyond Hannibal's reach. Hannibal could see it in Will's mouth and lower eyelids. When his eyes went soft his eyelids tightened against it. His mouth pressed together and released, parted as if he started to lick his lips then thought better of it, clamped his lips together and took a deep nostril-dilating breath.

Just as closely as he was being studied, Will was studying. Hannibal was right, something _was_ changing. More specifically something was changing with Hannibal and it was causing a change in him. He was starting to find Hannibal unbelievably sexy.

They had both gone a little scruffy lately. It fit the surroundings, sleek and polished in Paris, more lumberjack chic in the forest. Will let his beard grow a little fuller, let his hair get long enough to flop in his eyes. He didn't have to cut it to look professional anymore, so he didn't. There was no one out here to impress or convince. Hannibal felt the same way. He sported a full beard and usually tucked his long hair under one of Will's knit caps. Sometimes, especially if he was going to sketch or work in the kitchen, he tied it back. Recently it had gotten long enough to make a proper bun. Just a small knot at the back of his head, casually thrown together when he needed to work. This is when the staring had begun.

Will had never given much thought to his "type." Apparently, his type was hirsute, the hairier the better. He was sure interest was obvious, but Hannibal never said a word. When he caught Will staring he looked back, quizzical. Something was different, but he didn't know what. He did not connect Will's lingering looks with his own appearance. At times, Will looked lost in thought, wrinkling his forehead over some thorny problem, but he was really thinking about Hannibal. His long straight hair that fell with almost mathematical precision past his jaw, putting emphatic slashes over each of his broad muscled shoulders. His beard, dappled with gray, that didn't cover so much as highlight his best features: his noble cheekbones, his brown eyes that were both soulful and alert.

Still Will was determined. He had worked hard to set boundaries on their physical relationship, and he wasn't about to smash all those carefully built barriers; just because Hannibal's new look tickled his newly found sweet spot.

Even kissing had taken Will a while to warm up to. Okay, technically they had their first kiss while still streaming seawater into the bottom of Chiyoh's boat, but they had both killed a man and then nearly died. In the heat of the moment things can happen. Will still had the right to pull back the reigns and take it slow.

Take the romantic dinners and shared bedroom out, and they had the love life of a couple of closely chaperoned teenagers: tamped down hormones and widely-spaced make out sessions. One encounter had been in an actual car backseat. How funny it would have been for a cop on the beat finding a parked car with steamed up windows, expecting teenagers practicing their first awkward grope into adult sexuality and instead finding two middle aged men heavy petting, just as awkwardly.

So they kissed, and touched, but it didn't go much past that. There was no oral and no penetration. Will's main issue with oral is that he still had a visceral reaction to even the idea of Hannibal's teeth anywhere near the most defenseless part of his body. As for the other, he wasn't ready. It was as simple as that.

It was Will's choice and Hannibal accepted that. He wanted to take it slow. This is what his brain told him, while his body seemed to disagree more and more.

 

Will thought Hannibal had made the connection when he started touching Will's hair. Will had trying out some crafts to fill the need tying lures once filled, giving him something to do with his hands while his mind found peace. He had already tried leather work, glass etching and quilling. Now he had his head bent down over a piece of embroidery. It was a simple monogrammed hand towel with intertwined L and G, red on a white ground. It wasn't very good. He might try pottery next.

Hannibal walked behind him and laid his hand on Will's head, briefly tousling his hair. He ran his fingers though the trailing ends. Then he pinched one lock and rolled it between his fingers like he was assessing the quality of a fabric.

"This," he said, "looks good on you."

_It looks good on you too. You don't even know how good._

Hannibal pulled a single curl and let it recoil back into place. Will stabbed at the piece of fabric in his hands, not surprised that he didn't come near the correct spot for the next stitch.

"Having fun?" he said, swallowing the lump in throat. _Keep doing that. Run your fingers through my hair. Take me, roughly or gently I don't care. Just don't stop._ He closed his eyes and took a breath. He felt warm and his face was flushed. Hannibal took it as barely restrained annoyance and moved away. Will shot him a slightly hostile look. _Why can't you read my mind?_

Will heard the radio turn on in the next room, not music, talking, probably news. He flopped down on the couch. He had been working in the yard that morning and he was beat. It wasn't too long until he fell asleep.

In the next room, Hannibal turned off the BBC news hour. He couldn't think in the wide global way that world events required when he had very real news going on in his very own house. Will was still looking at him longingly, but the reluctance had become irritated. This was probably just a defense, but against what? Hannibal stood, determined to speak plainly with Will for once only to walk into the room and find him fast asleep. He wasn't going to wake him up to pick a fight with him. He wasn't a monster. Besides, he looked so angelic when he slept. Hannibal could just stand there and look at him.

This was another thing Will did not like: being watched while he slept.

Hannibal thought about how wonderful it would be to stroke his cheek. He didn't like to be touched while he was asleep, either.  Hannibal sighed. Will was very protective of his physical integrity and Hannibal had to admit to himself that some of that might be his fault.

Moving quietly in stocking feet, Hannibal picked up the nearest acceptable book and lowered himself to the by the couch with his back against it, near Will's shoulder. Eyes on the page, he could enjoy Will through his other senses, grateful again that he cultivated them as well as most people did sight alone. He couldn't really feel Will, beyond a sensory awareness of a presence behind him and his radiating heat. That heat brought Hannibal Will's scent. Will smelled like himself with the extra woodsy note of the wood he had been chopping earlier. Hannibal's physicians' ear could pick up Will's biological sounds: respiration, heartbeat, the irregular and infrequent gurgle of digestion.  

Hannibal kept his eyes on the book, occasionally turning pages, but he wasn't reading. He let his mind go into a restful state that often substituted for sleep for him. He soaked in his surroundings which seemed suspended in time and unchanging as long as Will slept and he sat beside him, facing out towards the world at large.

Hannibal heard and felt Will stirring, but didn't move. He could prolong this peaceful afternoon for a moment longer.  

He was surprised when he felt Will's finger's on the nape of his neck. It gave him an unexpected shiver of pleasure. _Please_ , he thought, no more specific than that.

Will turned on his side and used both hands to take off the elastic that was keeping Hannibal's loose bun in place. He flubbed taking it out and the hair got tangled. A few strands came away with the band, but it was Will who sucked his teeth. "Shit. Sorry."

He used his fingers to try to tease out the knot, but the angle was awkward. "Wait. Stay there." He left came back with a brush and then sat behind Hannibal, his legs on either side of him. Hannibal held his head up. Will fluffed Hannibal's hair into his lap and started to brush it.

Hannibal cringed a bit at the first swipe through, remembering what a mess he had made with the elastic band. It turned out Will knew how to handle a brush: short strokes until the tangles were worked out and then long passes through the hair once it was smooth. Hannibal remembered that Will used to groom the dogs he rescued, some of them in bad shape with matted coats. He did not have to pull out their hair elastics. Nor did he run his fingers occasionally up the back of their necks.

"I think this...this new thing you are doing…" Will said. "I think…that you look…nice."

"I didn't know you had an opinion about my apearance one way or the other."

The brush stopped its movement mid-stroke.

"I'm like most people. I have my own aesthetics."

Will could hear the smile that he couldn't see. The very tilt of Hannibal's head was a smile.

"What are the Will Graham aesthetics?"

He thought for a moment while he resumes his brushing. "Natural," he said. "Clothes that are comfortable but durable, food prepared simply, black coffee in a plain white mug, scotch straight up." He passed the brush to his left hand and started brushing that side, listening to the _shush_ of the bristles moving through the soft strands. He still couldn't figure out what color he would call it. There was a mixture of light and dark, with silvery gray threaded in between. "I like unfinished wood, unaged wine and…unshaven men."

"I didn't know that," Hannibal said.

"Neither did I."

Will put down the brush and let his fingers wander down to stroke Hannibal's cheeks. His beard felt much softer under his fingertips than he expected. "I can't stop thinking about how this would feel between my legs."

Hannibal turned without standing, graceful even in a crouch, and slid his hands over the tops of Will's legs. Will dropped his hands on Hannibal's.

"In the bedroom," Will said, angling his head towards the doorway. "Like adults."

 

In the bedroom Will felt a pure kind of anticipation. Here was a present. He was going to let himself unwrap it and everyone involved would be very happy. If one could simultaneously feel pure joy and a strong physical arousal, that's what he was feeling. He didn't need to cast himself into Hannibal's mind to know that he was feeling it too.

Will had thought that his feelings for Hannibal--not the mental connection, but that flutter in his stomach, the heat between his legs--was due to that vein of, for lack of a better term, femininity that Hannibal had. His hands were strong, but soft with well-manicured nails. Never a hair out of place. He enjoyed silk more than any other man Will knew. Will could imagine him dabbling in lace and high heels and wasn't particularly against the idea. Will always figured these things would bridge the gap between what he had found attractive to what he currently did.

He had put the cart before the horse. It was loving the person that made the difference. Once he capitulated to that, he could look at the man before him, slightly taller, slightly heavier, slightly older, plainly powerful, and think _Yes, I want that. I want_ him.

 

Will pulled Hannibal close and kissed him. He wanted to keep on kissing him. He was enjoying the sensation of one beard grazing another. But he also wanted to look. He silently thanked whatever set of influences that led Hannibal to almost exclusively wearing button down shirts. Will undid one button, then another and then stepped back to admire the chest hair that was already in view.

Hannibal started to undo the other buttons, but Will moved his hand away. He slowly undid each of the remaining buttons, watching the widening vista this gave him. He ran one hand and then the other up through his chest hair. The second time he let his nails scratch small lines that flared pink and then faded. He held his face in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking his beard on each side. Still soft.

"Do you still want to know how this feels this between your legs?" Hannibal turned his face to one side and nuzzled into the palm of Will's hand. "Do you want to feel this on your belly? On the soft skin of your thighs?"

"Yes." It was nearly a gasp.

He stripped down to his boxer shorts and sat down on their bed. The bed they slept in but never had sex in. Sex in a shared bed made it real. It was another confession of fidelity. Will wished they could have had a wedding and given everything to each other all at once, instead of having to painstakingly tease each individual strand apart and then weave them back together. There's was not a traditional romance.

Hannibal shrugged off the shirt that had hung loosely from his shoulders. Will unbuckled his pants while he kissed Hannibal's stomach. Hannibal ran his fingers through Will's hair. Even this view, looking down and seeing nothing but a head of curly hair, was spectacular.

When Will finally finished the long process of unzipping Hannibal's pants and sliding them down over his hips, Hannibal put one knee on the bed then the other, slowly encroaching on Will's space, and not pushing but suggesting wordlessly that he should lay down.

Hannibal began with kisses to Will's mouth, then down his throat, one side and then the other. He interspersed grazes of his beard with kisses: on his collarbone, down his chest and belly. He tugged Will's waistband out of the way. Below his navel, he found the line of hair that continued down and he followed the path of it, using his tongue to groom the hair there like a cat's. It was a strange sensation, but not an unpleasant one.

Will moved his own underwear off his hips. Hannibal grabbed it and pulled it away. In two movements, he had them down to his knees and then off.

Hannibal lowered his face down, but ignored Will's hard and leaking cock. With one finger he moved it to the side so he could have access to his thighs. Will yelped, here the flesh was so sensitive that the beard tickled. Hannibal alternated rasping, almost painful rubs with cool kisses to soothe the burn. When he moved Will's cock the other way, to give the other thigh the same treatment, Will groaned with frustration.

"Uh-uh," he scolded. "Appetizer before the main course."

"What's for desert?"

"I leave that to you."

Hannibal moved up to kiss Will's belly and his hair, lustrous from the brushing, swept over Will's cock. It was unbelievable soft. It was like Hannibal was trailing a silk ribbon over him. Hannibal noticed the reaction and hovered over Will, moving up and down. All Will could feel was Hannibal's warm breath on his skin and the sweep of his hair. If he ever cut it, and Will hoped he wouldn't, he wanted it mounted on the end of a whip,  so Hannibal could run it over his whole body from a slight distance. It would be the sweetest torture.

He clutched the sheets and writhed. He was getting impatient. Hannibal ghosted his way back down, kissed the head of Will's penis and gave the underside a quick playful lick. Will reached out, grabbed two handfuls of that still trailing hair and yanked Hannibal's head while at the same time thrusting his hips forward. He was passed the point of subtlety and perhaps had pulled a little harder than he needed to.

Hannibal slowly raised his head and clamped his own hand over Will's where they had frozen, fingers still entwined in his hair.

"Do that again," Hannibal growled.

He waited for the second half of the sentence that would start "and I'll…" but then it dawned on him that it wasn't a threat, it was a request. Do that again.

Will did, grabbing a messy handful at the back of Hannibal's head and using it to steer him into position. Hannibal paused, waiting for the signal; a short tug that meant get going. When he got the sign, he finally took Will into his mouth; carefully, lovingly avoiding grazing him with his teeth.

Will wanted to make this last as long as possible, pulling back on Hannibal's hair when he wanted him to slow, pulling him forward when he was ready for more. He only let go in the moment before he came. When he was done Hannibal raised his head, eyes wild and hungry, come at the corner of his mouth and shimmering in his beard: a scene as composed as any fancy centerpiece. Without thinking, Will kissed him, ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and nibbled at the corner of his mouth, using his lips and tongue to clean the traces of himself off him. He didn't know why did it, but it felt right. He was working on instinct.

"Dessert?" Will said.

Hannibal reached for the lube. They had used it before during a bout of mildly frustrating mutual handjobs on the couch. Now he took one lube-slicked finger and slid it gently under Will's spent cock and ran the fingertip lightly over his entrance.

"Here?" he said.

"No. I'm not ready for…" he started but the finger was removed as gentle as it had slid into place.  Hannibal took his hand and slapped it wetly on Will's thigh.

"Here?" he said.

"Between…?"

"If you are open to this I would like make love to you this way." He  pressed Will's thighs together and slid two fingers between them. "Do you want to feel something else between your legs?"

He hooked his fingers in his underwear and slid them down. The appearance of his swollen cock was at odds with his unhurried manner and his calm face and voice.

Will smiled and put the back of his hand against his mouth. "Perfect," he said. Then he reached up with both hands and gave the hair on Hannibal's chest a light tug. "As long as we can do it face to face."

He squeezed more lube in his hand and rubbed them together to warm it, then swept his hands on the facing sides of Will's thighs. He was slick between the legs and just pressing his legs together gave him a pleasant sensation.

Hannibal lay on his side and pulled Will to face him. He positioned himself between his legs. "Can you squeeze me tightly?"

He closed his thighs on him and felt the slide as he thrusted. The friction was intense for Hannibal, but Will found the movement pleasurable. He made a note to do this again _. I could come this way_ , he thought.

Hannibal had his head on Will's shoulder, his free hand gripping his back, holding him tight. He was grunting quietly at first but then louder.

"Fuck me," Will said. "Mark me. Make me yours."

Hannibal pulled back suddenly, withdrawing from Will's warm inviting flesh. Will felt the hot splash of come across his stomach.

As he had followed the trail of hair down from his navel, Hannibal now traced the opposite path, lapping the come off Will's belly. Will understood it now, what he might have called vanity. Hannibal wasn't savoring his own taste, but the flavor of both of them together. The passing of his tongue stirred up their scent, the intermingling musk and salt. It was primal, like something animals would do. Rut and then clean each other, gathering the other's scent so they would know them anywhere, and could catch a trace of their mate on the breeze. It felt warm and comforting and right.

It felt natural.

 


End file.
